


Fire in My Brain

by kettle_corn (slightly_burned_popcorn)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri-Typical Mental Health Issues, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, Overworking, Post-Canon, Sickfic, fluff? fluff, no beta we die like Glenn, this is literally just me projecting my migraines onto dimitri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_burned_popcorn/pseuds/kettle_corn
Summary: Of course, the Royal King of Faerghus knew how to read. He understood logically that the squiggles that made up words had meaning when put together in a sentence.His brain just...refused to decipher what said meaning was. His throbbing head wouldn’t allow it.----------Dimitri tries to work through a migraine, and Claude is not having that.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Fire in My Brain

**Author's Note:**

> dimitri: it's just a headache professor  
> me: time to project my migraines onto you
> 
> i think this is the first time i've published fanfiction in....a decade.  
> well hopefully my writing is better now lmao

He should have noticed it was getting bad again.

Dimitri had done his best to leave his ghosts in the past, for the sake of his people if nothing else. 

But that doesn’t mean that they’ve stopped trying to haunt him.

Sure, his nightmares had decreased in their frequency; having the support of his friends and Claude certainly helped with that. That didn’t stop his father from clawing at his melting skin in desperation, begging for vengeance as if she hasn’t been dead for several years. That didn’t stop Glenn from hissing in his ear about the life taken from him as the flames licked his back. It didn’t stop the smoke from filling his lungs choking him as he tries to tell him that he did everything he could and she was gone and everyone was safe not the mention the throbbing pain behind his eye as he struggled for air--

A resounding “thud” throughout the room snapped Dimitri out of his spiral. His hand shot up to his head. A small groan escaped his lips as the dull sound pierced through his already aching skull like a knife. He glanced over his desk to see one of the many books scattered all over his desk had fallen over to the floor. He also pointedly ignored the shadow of his father creeping at the edge of his vision. With a sigh, he pulled himself away from the parchment he was supposed to be reviewing, a budget proposal of some sort from what he’s managed to read. He lifted the book from the floor, glancing at the cover in an attempt to see what it was. Unfortunately, the pulsing pain behind his singular eye refused to let him focus. He gingerly places the book on his desk near his untouched dinner, lest the sound of a book carelessly thrown around twist the metaphorical knife in his skull.

He attempted to shift his attention back to the document, as if he could actually comprehend the words written on them. Of course, the Royal King of Faerghus knew how to read. He understood logically that the squiggles that made up words had meaning when put together in a sentence. His brain just...refused to decipher what said meaning was. His throbbing head wouldn’t allow it. The dim light of a single candle in the dark office certainly did not help with reading the document. The darkness, however, did ease his headache just a little bit. He ran his hand through his hair. He could feel every ache and pain in his body. His back whined from hunching over his desk for so long. His neck twinged from staring down endlessly at incomprehensible documents. His eyes burned as he tried to scan the page again and again. And that’s not even to mention the _noise_. The light rainfall outside roared like a raging waterfall to his ears. Every rustle of paper sounded like the flapping of a wyvern’s wing. Even the scratching of his quill felt more like the screeching of two swords clashing together. 

It was all just _so much_. 

He cursed under his breath. As soon as this last stack of paper was finished, he would _try_ to get some sleep, assuming the pain wouldn’t keep him up. Or the nightmares. Or the stress. Maybe he should talk to Claude or Mercedes about some treatment for these ailments, as if Claude hasn’t been prodding him about it since the war ended.

That’s a problem for later, he supposed.

And so with a stubborn huff, he lifted his quill and tried to read the jumbled mess of symbols disguising itself as the kingdom’s budget proposal.

Until three solid knocks stopped any chance of that. 

Normally Dimitri would appreciate the polite attempt to get his attention, but the sound felt like three thunderclaps in his brain. Shocks of pain ran down his body. He clenched his jaw to hide the pain as his quill snapped in his tightened grip. Shit. That was the third one today.

“There you are, your Kingliness,” a familiar voice purred as he stepped into the room. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be working?”

Dimitri winced from the light pouring into the hall, but he still forced himself to look up at Claude and his lopsided grin. 

“Really? I did not notice…” he muttered. Not that it matters; better that it’s dark out if this much light was hurting him.

One glance over at the scene in front of him and Claude knew something was wrong. Ever observant, he quietly shut the door behind him. Dimitri’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“You haven’t touched your food.” Claude kept his voice low as he spoke.

“I do not think I could keep it down.” Dimitri’s attempt at a huffed laugh only served to make him wince again.

Claude’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. He tilted his head a bit to the side and pointed at it. “Bad one?”

Dimitri sighed and glanced back down at the parchment that mocked him. “Mmm, I’ll be fine. I need to finish this stack of parchment anyway…” Dimitri’s voice trailed off as he lifted the document to his face. He was starting to believe that this supposed proposal was written in a foreign language. However, any attempt to test this theory was swiftly interrupted by a tan hand pulling down the top of the page. Dimitri looked up to see Claude’s emerald eyes boring holes into him, expression unreadable.

“Let me guess: You’ve been staring at this document since there was still light out,” Only Claude could keep a teasing lilt in his concerned accusation.

Dimitri made a non-committal noise in response. He wasn’t going to outright admit it, but he was well aware that there was no use lying to Claude. Claude bit the inside of his cheek as the concern on his face grew more evident.

“Wearing yourself out like this is only going to hurt you, ‘Mitri,” he whispered.

Dimitri groaned. “I know, but I need to finish these--”

“And they will get done. Later.” The corner of Claude’s mouth quirked up in a smirk as he began pulling the document out of Dimitri’s hand. “After you get some rest.”

“But--”

“Nope, no butts except for mine, Mitya,” Claude punctuated his awful joke with a wink. Dimitri felt a smile try to worm its way onto his face.

“Ugh, fine. Only because you will get Dedue or Hilda to drag me out if I don’t comply,” Dimitri conceded, letting Claude take the document and toss it over his shoulder. 

“Ah, looks like I’ll have to think of some new schemes then if I’m getting predictable.” Claude’s smirk shifted to a more gentle smile. “I’m assuming you don’t want to be touched. Wouldn’t want to make your headache worse.”

“Mmm, don’t know if you could,” Dimitri replied as he rose slowly from his seat. “Already feel like someone’s taken a pickaxe to it.”

Claude hummed as he placed a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. Dimitri flinched slightly but assured Claude that it was okay, he was just surprised is all. Only after pulling Claude’s hand back to his shoulder did the two finally make their way to their shared bedchamber. It was a slow walk, with Claude making sure not to move too quickly or too suddenly. Dimitri kept his uncovered eye closed the whole way there, keeping any light in the hall out. He tried to shift his mind away from the pain thrashing around his skull, instead focusing on Claude’s gentle grasp guiding him through the hall.

Claude didn’t light a single candle once they were in their bedchambers, much to Dimitri’s relief. He simply steered Dimitri to their bed in the dark and sat him on top of the blankets. He then proceeded to help the king change out of his regalia, unclasping his cape and removing the many layers of fabric his duties demanded he wear. Had it been any other night, Dimitri would protest such behavior; he was a king after all, not a child. However, he did enjoy being doted upon by his beloved while his head continued to throb in protest...not without teasing, of course. His love also had a tendency to be a bit of a menace. Once Dimitri was free from his suffocating finery, Claude handed him some comfortable bedclothes to change into while he “ran out to grab something”. Once he was in more comfortable nightwear, Dimitri buried himself under the many blankets needed even during Faerghan summers. The soft quilts and furs were like white noise as he pulled them over his head, muffling the noisy outside world.

The throbbing in his head dulled to a thud, and Dimitri shut his eyes. He let himself drift, not asleep but not really awake either. 

He stirred only when he felt the mattress dip next to him.

“Mitya?” Claude’s voice was barely a whisper it was so low, hoping not to disturb the king if he were asleep.

“‘M awake,” Dimitri replied, peeling the blankets off of his head. He looked up to see Claude watching over him with a fond expression, a couple of bottles in his hands.

Claude chuckled. “You didn’t even take off your eyepatch?”

Dimitri only grunted in response, which Claude took that as his cue to undo the knot at the back of his head. Once it was untied, Claude slipped the eyepatch off his lover’s face and placed it on their bedside table. 

“What do you have in your hands?” Dimitri asked while Claude was turned away.

Claude faced him with a lop-sided grin. “I figured that I could let you sample some of my wares.” He held out one of his bottles with flourish to emphasize this.

“Hm, something tells me that poison doesn’t sound the most helpful thing you could do for a migraine.”

Claude flicked some hair out of Dimitri's face in lieu of a playful shove. “It’s poison for the migraine! I would argue that is extremely helpful.” He shakes one of the bottles. “I’ve been messing with some concoctions in my free time.”

Dimitri gave a light snort. “I didn’t realize you had an interest in plants outside of ones that kill people who look at them funny.”

“Glad that I can still surprise you this far into our relationship,” Claude teased. He opens one of the bottle and sucks some of the liquid inside up with a dropper. “Can you turn your head towards me a little bit?”

“Only so I can have a better view of my beloved’s face,” Dimitri said as he did so. He could see a dusting of pink over his love’s cheek as Claude reached over to push some hair away from Dimitri’s temple.

“Well, I guess you can’t be feeling _that_ terrible if you still have the energy to compliment me.” He taps the tip of the dropper on the edge of the bottle. “This is going to feel a bit cool on your skin. It shouldn’t irritate it, but tell me if it does. Should help with the pain.”

Dimitri nods slightly as Claude dribbled the liquid onto his temple. He was right, it was cool on his skin. Nothing surprising about that. What he was surprised about was Claude delicately massaging the liquid into his skin with his fingers. His eyelids fluttered shut, humming at the sensation.

“Guess you’re a fan of that,” Dimitri could hear the affection in Claude’s voice. “I’m going to tilt your head to the other side, okay?”

Dimitri made a noise of confirmation, and Claude moved Dimitri’s head as if it were one of the most precious relics in Fodlan. He repeated the dribbling and massaging process all over again. Dimitri allowed a relaxed sigh to escape his lips. The pain in his head became muted, moved to the background against Claude’s careful touch. When he finally removed his fingers from his head, Dimitri couldn’t help but let out a bit of a petulant whine. Claude’s chuckling could be heard in the background.

“I can give you all the head massages you want when I’m finished, I just have one more thing I want to try.”

Dimitri grunted again and he cracked his eye open as Claude opened a second slightly bigger bottle. Claude shot him one of his dazzling smiles.

“Gonna need you to sit up, big guy. Wouldn’t want you to choke.”

With a huff, Dimitri pushed his torso up with his forearms. “What does that one do?”

Claude handed him the medicine. “It’s a muscle relaxant, should also ease the pain. Might also make you drowsy. Just knock the whole thing back.”

“As if I can taste it.” Dimitri downed it all in one gulp anyway.

The effect wasn’t immediate, but it wasn’t long before he felt the pulsing in his head finally ease up. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the rest of the tension in his body leaving with it. His arm slowly slipped out from under him. His limbs were so...heavy. Leaden. He can’t remember when he last felt this relaxed. He felt his eyelid droop, and it was growing difficult to keep it open. He blinked, he thought, but he didn’t remember when his head fell against Claude’s chest. He didn't seem to notice when his love wrapped an arm around him, or when his hand began carding through his hair. His groggy brain didn't seem to mind as his eye drifted shut. It was…nice.

He felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head. "I don't think I've ever seen you this calm," Claude murmured.

"Mmpf," is all his sleep-addled mind can supply.

Claude's warm chuckles were the last thing he heard before sleep finally washed over him.


End file.
